


Sweet Dandelions

by Fleurs_et_Cuir



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - 1920s, Multi, jbm - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-29 08:20:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8482354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fleurs_et_Cuir/pseuds/Fleurs_et_Cuir
Summary: 1920s JBM au no one asked for.Musichetta is invited to her friend's party but meets two far more interesting people.





	

“So you comin’ tonight?”

“What?” Musichetta turned back to her friend, not entirely aware of his question.

The man laughed. “I asked if you were coming to my little get-together. It’s gonna be a blow.” 

Musichetta leaned against the rough brick wall of the corner store, just catching her friend coming out from buying a pack of camels. He was about the same age as her, a little short but quite handsome. Word around the city was that they were hooked to each other, and to be honest they couldn’t blame the rumours considering how close they were. He was her best and first friend found in the concrete jungle of New York City.

“Courf you said you was only inviting the coolest guys you knew?”

“Yeah by that I meant I’m only inviting the bent guys I know.” Courfeyrac took a drag from his cigarette. “And if my memory serves me correctly, you’re pretty bent.”

“Only a little bent. I still like dudes, you know? Maybe I’m just half bent.”

“Hey hey you full bent _and_ you full straight. Who says you can’t be both anyway?”

Musichetta laughed. “Calm down now; don’t all get justice-y on me. And who else you invitin’ anyways?”

“Loads. I got them connections, but there’s a couple fellas you know. Lemme think…well you know my bird Ferre, then there’s Fee and Baz, Enjolras, R, Eponine, Marius-”

Musichetta snorted. “Marius? I’m afraid he’s as straight as a ramp, pal.”

Courfeyrac took another drag from his cigarette and he blew it out slowly with a smile. “My walls would say otherwise.”

She shook her head. “I don’t even wanna know. But yeah I’ll be there, when is it?”

He grinned up at her wildly. “Tonight at eight, and wear somethin’ fashionable. It’s gonna be real classy with champagne and shit- don’t ask me how I acquired it though.” Courfeyrac tossed the remains of his cigarette on the ground and stopped it out. “Well I gotta go see a man about a dog, but I’ll catch you tonight, doll!”

Musichetta couldn’t get a word in before she saw him dart off into the distance, disappearing in the crowded street. Her mind still lingered on Courfeyrac’s description of his upcoming house party, unable to fathom what it would be like. She was one for parties, but something told her this would be very different from any other.

 

Loud music filled the sweet air as Musichetta pushed through the throngs of people, looking for the first familiar face she could find.

“Ey, Chetta!” 

Musichetta turned around to see a larger man with wild, dark hair beaming at her from across the room. “Grantaire?”

The man fake bowed before her. “The one and only.”

“God, it’s been ages!” She hugged Grantaire quickly then faced him again. “Courf said you was coming, didn’t think you’d actually pry yourself from that speakeasy though.”

“Hey you laugh but there’s good entertainment there, yeah?”

“R we both know you’re not there for the entertainment.” She laughed. “Where’s Courf anyways?”

Grantaire took another swig from his glass before answering. “Who knows? I just came and he’s probably more zozzled than I am what with this flow of booze around ‘ere. Else he’s canoodling that ol’ lovebird of his out on the porch or somethin’.”

Musichetta patted her friend on the shoulder. “Thanks R, see ya ‘round.”

“Wait Chetta!” She turned around once more. “You didn’t get to tell me why you’s all dressed up.” Grantaire gestured to her attire, a black ankle length dress and crystal necklace that shone brighter than the sun.

“Well, Courf said to dress nice. He told you the same didn’t he?”

“He told me to get dressed at all, if I could manage it he said. Condescending bastard. But anyhow, just thought you should know. You look ravishing in case ya had any worries.”

“Thanks, R.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m gonna look for Courf now; I’ll catch up with ya later.” Grantaire shrugged and motioned for her to go ahead and leave.

Slipping through the mass of bodies, after almost running into the band on accident, Musichetta finally found Courfeyrac. His face was flushed and his eyes wild- the look of ecstasy clear as day.

“Chetta! You made it!” Courfeyrac threw an arm around her shoulders drunkenly and smiled. “I was havin’ doubts you’d come after all. How was escapin’ the yard?”

She put an arm around his waist to steady the man. “Not too bad, to think. I told her I was headin’ to yours and she flipped, but didn’t lock me up for once. Damn my mother sure does hate you.”

“Don’t blame her. Half of New York thinks we’re shacking, and the other half are guys that I’ve slept with.”

“No it’s not that she- never you mind this ain’t a good party topic.”

“No, tell me what is it?” Courfeyrac looked up at Musichetta with large curious eyes, and it almost broke her heart.

“She- she knows you a cake-eater alright? Think she dropped by and saw you with your boy-toy.”

“Oh.” His smile fell, but only for a second. “Well, to hell with her, eh? Might’ve snuck by to see what _real_ action looks like.”

“You not bothered by it? That she know and how she hates-”

“Listen, Chetta.” He pulled her down close to his face, craning her neck about four inches down uncomfortable. “This is why I started this hop, for us folk. We don’t have to care about all that, at least not right now, yeah? Here’s to the queers.” He nabbed two glasses of champagne from a waiter and raised one of them, extending the other to Musichetta.

“To the queers.” She chimed in.

The glasses rung out as they hit one another and Musichetta drank the golden liquid inside, bubbles cascading down her throat like a waterfall. It was the first time she’s had the taste of alcohol on her lips in a while and the buzz felt refreshing.

“Hey,” Courfeyrac said, taking his glass back from his mouth. “Have you seen anyone you know ‘round here yet?”

“Yeah I saw R earlier; he pointed me to ya. Other than him ‘aven’t seen anyone yet.”

“Damn.” He rubbed his chin. “I was hopin’ you’d find someone to hang around when I’m gone.”

“Hey, where you goin’? You can’t just invite me to a party with strangers and leave me by myself!”

Courfeyrac kissed her on the cheek. “Sorry, love. My _boy-toy_ is waitin’ for me.” He stuck out his tongue and wrinkled his nose in an obscene way that made Chetta feel perverted.

“Whateva. I’ll find someone to hang with while ya do your thing.”

“Well if I’m bein’ honest I think it’ll be _him_ doing _my_ thi-”

“Woah okay time to go!” Musichetta patted her friend on the back and darted away. She loved the man but his verbal filter was nonexistent when alcohol came into the mix, not that he had a strong one when sober anyways.

She wandered through the thick of the party and eventually sat down on a stool in the corner. Grantaire was no where to be seen and none of the others Courf had mentioned were there. She felt alone in the crowd. As she got another drink from a server and began to gulp it down, she heard loud laughter erupting near her and it caught her attention.

No more than ten feet away, two boys around her age danced with each other laughing. The shorter of the two had the brightest smile and the taller looked at him with more love in his eyes than she had ever seen. Musichetta sighed, only now realizing how bad she wanted that.

It was only when the shorter boy looked over at her that she realized she was staring at them and looked away, feeling a blush heat her cheeks. Chetta tried her best to avert her gaze from them, but out of the corner of her eyes her vision was blocked by something. Turning back, she came face to face with the taller boy.

“Wanna dance?” He asked.

Her stomach fluttered. “Ain’t you with him?” She asked, pointing to the other boy who was still smiling.

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “So, wanna dance?” He held out a hand for her and smiled gently.

Hesitating for only a second, Musichetta took his hand and was immediately whirled to the space Courf had marked as the dance floor.

“Oh and by the way, the name’s L’Aigle. But my friends call me Bossuet.” He motioned to the other boy who Chetta was still curious about. “This is Joly.”

“Musichetta.” She nodded curtly. “I thought you two was…together?”

Joly laughed and pushed his round glasses up his nose. “Yeah, we’re ‘together’ as you say.”

“Well then why’d you ask me to dance wit ya?”

“You looked lonely.” Bossuet said simply. “And very pretty, but that’s besides the point.”

Musichetta blushed again but tried to hide it by coughing. “Won’t it be weird? To dance with two other peoples I mean.”

“Darling this is the queerest party of the _century_. I doubt anyone will pay mind to three people dancing together.”

Before she could reply, both her hands had been taken by the boys and were swinging to the rhythm of the music. In all her life, she had never done something such as this, the jumps of her heart and lurches of her stomach echoing this truth. The excitement of the night kept her smiling and energetic, or possibly it could have been the way Joly and Bossuet looked at her.

 

Four songs and three more glasses of champagne later, Musichetta had forgotten all about how strange it was to be with two boys. Her cheeks had brightened from both alcohol and laughter and her hands felt warm in the palms of her two dancing partners, who danced with her grinning and laughing naturally. It was as if she had known them for years.

When the band took a break, the trio decided it was time to move towards the bar where they all sat down, Joly almost on Bossuet’s lap. The position puzzled her and felt guilty as a twinge of jealously pinched her. Somehow she wished she could switch places with both of them.

“So how do you know Courfeyrac anyways?” She asked them, swallowing her feelings.

“His boyfriend, Combeferre, is a colleague of mine. We all got introduced from there.” Joly answered.

“Ain’t you his highschool friend?” Asked Bossuet.

“Yeah, but we still good friends now though. Even if I still live with my parents.”

“Woah you still live with your parents? Not that I’m judging but, how’d you even get to here?” Bossuet gestured around at the party and Musichetta understood what he meant.

“That’s what I’ve been askin’ myself all night. Had to keep my head high as my ma’ told me I was better than to party with a bunch of dandies.”

Joly choked on his now fifth drink. “Better than to party with a dandy? That’s a riot!” He laughed to himself as he looked at his partner softly. “I always thought that was a funny word, you know? Dandy. Sounds like dandelion. And flowers aren’t so bad, right?”

“No.” Bossuet replied, looking tenderly up at Joly. “They’re not.”

Silence passed as the boys appeared to be locked into each others’ gaze and Musichetta sat there in agony before clearing her throat. “You two seem really happy. Makes me think that love does exist for our kind after all, eh?”

The joke was dry and came out wrong, almost like she was going to cry. If she could take it back, she would, and by the way Bossuet was standing up it seemed as though he didn’t like it either. Musichetta looked down in embarrassment and opened her mouth to apologize but was cut off by the feel of lips upon hers. When she looked up, shock exploded in her chest when she saw that it was Bossuet kissing her, with Joly watching in fact. And when his lips left hers, Joly did the same and placed his soft mouth onto Musichetta’s.

When the second kiss had ended, she sat in her stool for a second in silent shock before blurting out, “Am I dead?” She looked at the boys. “Is this heaven?”

Joly and Bossuet burst into laughter clutching their sides as Chetta chuckled lightly with them, not entirely sure if it was a joke of not. But after their laughing fit, both took her hands once again and smiled at her, melting her heart.

“We really like you, Chetta.” Joly grinned.

“A lot.” Bossuet added.

“And if it isn’t too weird for you.” Joly paused to shrug sheepishly. “Would you wanna go with us?”

A wide smile grew onto Musichetta’s face slowly. “Yes, yes!” She laughed to herself as she watched Joly and Bossuet smile in excitement.

“Look at me.” She said. “Going steady with two dandelions.”

“Yeah.” Bossuet nodded happily. “But that ain’t so bad, is it?”

“Nope.” Musichetta replied, looking at Joly and Bossuet tenderly. “It’s not bad at all.”


End file.
